


Chicago Bound

by Itrustyoutokillme



Category: Prison Break
Genre: F/M, PWP, Season 2, co-write, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 22:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11091549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itrustyoutokillme/pseuds/Itrustyoutokillme
Summary: Lincoln, Michael, and Kellerman meet Sara on the train platform ready to head back to Chicago.  Set during season 2 "Chicago".





	1. Chapter 1

Sara stepped off the train, glancing around. She clutched her purse to her chest, unsure of what she was even looking for. Michael and Lincoln wouldn't step forward in broad daylight to retrieve her, would they? Maybe they would. She wouldn't put anything past either of them anymore. She glanced in both directions before turning to walk to her left, towards a shaded area.

"There she is," Lincoln whispered over his brother's shoulder. Sara walked from the train, small and hunched herself, trying to be oblivious. Michael stared at her coolly from the space in between the walls of two building he shared with his brother. A tiny, relieved smile crept across his lips and he sighed a thank you to whoever had given him faith that she would be ok.

"There she is," Michael repeated, his voice full of happiness and hushed excitement. Michael didn't know how to attract her attention without attracting the attention of every other passenger on the platform. They were not only two of the most wanted men in America, but they had also just been on the news. Chance were, at least one of the passengers had seen them on television. In a split second, Michael made a decision that could of potentially given them away, but he had to risk it. As Sara scurried past the alleyway, head down and focused on her soft soled footwear, Michael lunged from the space, grabbed Sara by the shoulders and pulled her into the alleyway, immediately cupping his large, warm hand over her mouth to muffle her imminent scream. "Shh, Sara, It's me," he breathed, pressing her into the shadows against the wall. "It's Michael."

Sara let out a muffled shriek against Michael's hand as he grabbed her. Finally, realizing it was him, she calmed down. Letting out an aggravated hiss, she shoved him away. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack, Michael?"

Michael stepped back a little hurt by her reaction. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips nervously and he rested his hands to his hips, his fingers pulling the thin fabric of his navy top against his body outline. "I'm sorry," he offered, looking from her to the ground between them before lifting his head and catching her hazely gaze in a steely blue trap. "I'm sorry," he repeated, sincere and purposefully slowly. Even Lincoln, from his look out point behind his brother, knew he meant for more than just scared the hell out of her.

Sara stood still until her breathing returned to normal pace. Her eyes locked with Michael's, and she could see the sincerity behind them, and hear the sincerity in his words. Not knowing what else to do, she dropped her purse to the ground and stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Are you okay?"

Lincoln brought a closed fist to his mouth and coughed lightly. "I'm just gonna...go...find...you know..." he stuttered unnoticed by Sara or Michael as he took a few steps sideways, admiring the wall behind him.

Michael felt a rush of adrenaline surge his body when Sara threw herself at him, pressing her body to his and needing him for the first time since her message. Michael's hand pressed into her back, holding her to him and he liberated a sigh of relief into her shoulder. "Are you?" he asked smoothly, switching the focus of the conversation onto her.

Sara kept her arms around him, turning her head and pressing it into his neck. Briefly, she wondered how he managed to smell so good. "I'm okay. I've been better. But I'm okay." Her grip on him tightened. "I'm okay now."

Michael pressed his eyes closed and inhaled Sara's scent. It was warm, sweet and intoxicating, but it was laced with something. A poison. Michael reluctantly pulled away from Sara and his eyes roamed her figure precariously. She wore a thick grey woolly sweater under a light green hooded top that was unzipped and looked severely worn. Her jeans were new looking but her brown heeled boots were familiar to Michael. He trailed his hand up her arm lightly and Sara flinched from his grasp. "Sara, what's wrong?" Michael asked with a frown and a worried expression.

"It's just. . ." Sara shook her head, and pulled away. "I told you someone grabbed me in Gila." Gently, she pulled up her sleeves, exposing her bandage. "I had to stitch myself up. It's not as easy as it looks on TV." Sara forced a laugh, and glanced away, not able to look at him as she told him her story of the man who had pretended to be in NA, pretended to be her friend, then grabbed her in Gila and tried to kill her. When she finished she shook her head, "And none of it is your fault. None of it."

Michael's heart plummeted to the floor. The cuts, the slashes, the bruises; all of them flashing before his eyes every time he blinked. Michael ignored Sara's attempt at a joke. "Who did this to you?" Michael asked, his voice dark and raspy as he trailed a soft, feather light touch over the jagged sewn edge of the cut across Sara's shoulder.  
Sara flinched just slightly at his touch. "It doesn't matter who did it, Michael. He's gone now, and it's over. I got away." She leaned down, picking her purse back up. "So. This key. . ."

"It matters to me," Michael soothed, pulling Sara's top slightly so it recovered her bare and raw shoulders. A silence fell upon them and neither knew what to say, each just standing a staring into the abyss of each other’s eyes. Each other’s soul. "Was it a man?" Michael asked suddenly, even if the answer was to be horribly obvious, and one that would make his blood boil. "Did they have a name?" he pried further before looking back to the floor and shuffling his feet sideways. "Did they torture you because of me?" He mumbled against his chest.

"He told me his name was Lance once, but that wasn't really it." Sara stepped back into him, taking his face in her hands and making him look at her. "Michael, this isn't your fault. They knew my father had information, they thought he had given it to me. It wasn't because of you."

Michael's eyes shifted, averting Sara's gaze as she confirmed it was a man who had done this too her. It was bad enough another human being was capable of this sort of thing, but to do it to a woman. Even the thought of it made Michael seethe. His jaw clenched, the muscles tightening and rippling along Sara's fingers that held his face. Somehow, he couldn't believe this wasn't his fault, and an urge so primal built up inside him that Michael felt darker, hardened and so full of rage he couldn't focus. He might not of had the power to prevent it, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't make it right.

"I can tell what you're thinking," Sara told him softly, trailing her fingers down the sides of his face. She let her hands fall to his shoulders, and she gently squeezed them. "And stop, there's nothing you can do now, even if you wanted to. He's long gone. And I'm okay." She stepped even closer to him, their faces inches apart. "Okay?"

Sara's words did little to quench his rage but Michael's white knuckled fist relaxed and he lifted his hand to tuck a clump of Sara's dark brown locks behind her soft, milky ear. Michael felt Sara relax into his touch and he sighed against her lips as he leant against her forehead. "Okay." He lied, peeling his eyes open to meet hers once more. He saw hurt and he saw pain but most of all he saw his Sara, the one from Fox River. The one he had fallen in love with. "Sara..." he began, his eyes darting between her and her sweet inviting lips.

"Michael?" Sara felt a small smile tug at the corner of her lips. She reached up, tugging his black beanie down so it covered his ears. "Are you going to kiss me, or what?"

Michael breathed out a laugh and pressed his smile to Sara's tenderly. Just like he remembered, she was divine. Her lips were soft, warm and parted gently, inviting his tongue to join in the dance. Michael reached up a hand and pulled his beanie backwards off his new growth of hair, letting it fall to their feet. He wanted to feel Sara's hands on him, running like grass snakes through his slightly waved, thick, black hair. Michael mirrored Sara, parted his own lips and his tongue sought of the refuge of her mouth as they kissed, devouring each other wantonly with reckless abandon.

Sara kissed Michael back with force, reaching her hands up and brushing them through his hair. She hadn't seen him with so much before, and she liked how her fingers felt running through it. She moved one hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her, and the other to the small of his back, pushing his hips closer to hers. Keeping her mouth against his, she let out a tiny sigh, "Oh, Michael."

Sara’s soft sighs just spurred Michael on more and his hands glided from her face, down over her ribcage and he gripped at her hips briefly before exploring lower and tracing the rounded curve of her behind. Maybe he had overstepped a line, maybe he hadn’t. Unfortunately, Michael would never know.

“Ahem,” Lincoln’s gruff voice interrupted them and Michael wrenched his lips from Sara’s and whipped his head towards his returning brother.

Sara half-stepped behind Michael, clearing her throat. Someone she couldn't quite make out was standing behind Lincoln. Coughing again, she glanced towards Lincoln, "Someone's with you?"

Lincoln looked to his side as Kellerman stepped forward into the light. “It’s ok Doc,” Lincoln said with a low, soothing tone. “It’s a friend,” Lincoln shot Kellerman a glance as he bit the words out. He still didn’t trust him but he trusted his little brother to know what they were doing and why they needed Kellerman around.

Kellerman stepped to the side, tilting his head as he studied Sara. "Actually, we've met before. How's it going, Sara? You're looking a little rough. Maybe you should take a trip to the hospital, see a real doctor, get some real stitches. Maybe they can even hook you up with a nice morphine drip?"

"Hey!" Lincoln jumped to Sara's defence, pushing Kellerman's shoulders and causing him to stumble sideways.

Michael shot a glance between Sara and Kellerman. "What are you talking about?" He growled at the agent. "What is he talking about?" Michael asked, turning to Sara and unhooking her grip on his grey sweater.

Sara narrowed her eyes, and bit the inside of her cheek at his barb. For a brief second, she considered being frightened, but then she reminded herself that it was her who burned him in the end, her who won, and she could do it again. She reached out for Michael again, fully aware that her hold on him was more to keep him back than to protect herself. "It's. . . him."

Michael frowned and snapped his head back to Kellerman and his smug expression. It was him. Sara’s words echoed through his head and for a second, the only thing Michael saw was red. Check twice, cut once was the engineers’ motto Michael had been taught. “Him?!” Michael spat, pointing a tensed finger towards he agent who looked to Lincoln innocently.

Kellerman smiled at Sara, shaking his head slightly. "We've got a nice little arrangement going on here, so why don't you just keep it calm, Sara? Let bygones be bygones. It's not personal. It's business. Right?"

Sara's grip tightened on Michael as the man who had tortured her spoke. She kept her voice low, and shifted her gaze. "Come on. It's not important. Let's just go."

No." Michael snapped at her, pulling her hands from the fabric of his sweater. "He did this to you?" He asked again naively, as if any other answer than the one he knew was coming would do anything but fuel his rage further. Michael turned so that his back was to Kellerman and Lincoln, and Sara was hidden protectively behind his frame. He held Sara's hands in his, took a large deep breath and swallowed a sudden obstruction in his throat. "Sara, did he do this to you?" Michael asked with a sudden calmer tone.

"Michael." Sara did her best to keep her tone even. "It's okay. I'm okay. It doesn't matter." The last thing she wanted, the last thing any of them needed, was for anyone to cause a scene. She had never seen that exact look on Michael's face, and she was afraid of what it meant. "He's not going to hurt me again."

Michael..." Lincoln pressed quietly, taking a step towards his brother.

"Shut up!" Michael yelled darkly turning to face his stunned brother, his voice low, loud and frightening. Sara jumped backwards a little at his tone. She had never seen Michael so angry and it scared her. "Dammit Sara!" Michael growled as he turned back to face her. "All I want is a yes, or a no."

Sara glanced from the man, to Lincoln, and then finally back to Michael. A part of her considered lying, but it was too late now. And she was sick of lies. She reached for his face, wanting to smooth out the lines, and calm him down. "Yes."

Michael sighed, closed his eyes and rested his lips against Sara's forehead. He didn't say anything. Words couldn't express how sorry he was for then and how sorry he was for now. Michael smoothed Sara's hair over her head, stroking the soft dyed curls slowly before pulling his lips from her forehead with a smile less glance.

"It's beautiful, really." Kellerman brought his hands together several times in a slow clap. He glanced towards Lincoln. "Isn't it beautiful? How you managed to get her to still want to crawl in bed with you after you lied to her, got her to OD, and got her dad killed all within a two-week span is going to make a lovely chapter in the book one day, Scofield, but right now we need to go."

Neither Lincoln or Sara had time to react before Michael let out an almighty grunt and spun around, racing towards Kellerman as fast as his legs would take him. Michael’s hands closed around Kellerman’s throat and his nails dug into the flesh of his neck. Kellerman let out a pained gasp for breath when Michael slammed his body into the wall and his rucksack slid from his shoulder. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” Michael snarled against Kellerman’s face, his teeth barred and his muscles aching from the pressures exerted on them.

Letting out a puff of air, Kellerman reached up, grasping Michael's wrist. He tried to breathe again, but it was too hard. This Scofield was seriously a pain in the ass. Tightening his grip on Michael's wrist he puffed out, "If you . . . want a reason. . . you're gonna . . . need to let me breathe."

Sara watched the scene unfold, and stepped into Lincoln. She motioned towards Michael and whispered, "Do something, Lincoln."

Lincoln sprung to life and grabbed one of Kellerman’s arms, yanking his hand free from Michael. “Come on Mike, we need him!” Lincoln coaxed his younger brother, but his grip didn’t loosen around Kellerman’s throat. Michael’s lips pulled tight across his face and his arms shook. Adrenaline surged his veins, fuelling his rage and deepening his voice.

“The hell we do!” Michael bit out at Lincoln. “Not so tough now are we,” Michael spat into Kellerman’s face so closely his breath heated the agents face and misted his sunglasses. Michael released one of his hands, reached up and ripped Kellerman’s glasses from his face and threw them behind him. They skidded across the concrete with a metallic echo. Michael crushed Kellerman’s jaw between his hand and twisted his head so he could only look at Sara. “Look what you did to her, you bastard.”  
  
"Michael." Sara tried to keep calm as she stepped closer to Michael, putting a hand on his shoulder. She carefully avoided Kellerman's gaze as she spoke to Michael. She realized for the first time that she didn't quite know what he was capable of. "Michael, I need you to let him go."

Michael ignored Sara's pleas and his jaw began to ache from how hard he had his teeth pressed together. He didn't blink and he kept his focus on Kellerman. Even Sara's soft touch on his shoulder was not enough.

"Michael, listen to Sara," Lincoln pleaded, giving Sara an equally desperate look of the unknowing. He had no idea his brother was capable of such hate, such hostility. Lincoln had never seen Michael react this way before, and he didn't know what to do.

Kellerman was able to yank his wrist out of Lincoln's grasp and he used to try to push Michael away. He hadn't expected that Scofield had it in him. Using all his strength he brought his other hand up, and using his elbow struck Michael across his jaw.

Michael reeled backwards, his hands instantly covered with blood that began to flow from his nose. The impact had made him dizzy and he stumbled backwards into Sara before shaking his head clear again and lunging for Kellerman a second time. He swung a punch that landed on Kellerman’s face, the bones in Michael’s hand shifting and creaking with the impact. Blood dripped from his nose, hot and crimson red and his bloody hands smeared it over Kellerman’s clothes as he grappled for him.

”Hey, hey!” Lincoln charged his brother and caught him before he managed to get a grip on Kellerman again. Kellerman sunk against the wall with a cupped palm over his eye and dabbed a split lip with the back on his free hand. “This isn’t helping!” Lincoln roared into his brother’s ear with a shaking voice. Michael’s breathing was sporadic and he grunted like an angry bull over his brother’s shoulder.

Kellerman sat, momentarily stunned for a minute. He stood up and shook himself off, looking back and forth between Michael and Lincoln. "God, Scofield. Nice to see your capable of a little combat. I thought your brother had all the fight in him, and you were left with nothing but the ideas." He paused, glancing over at Sara, who to his amusement, looked more scared of the new Scofield than she had ever looked of him. "Huh. Or maybe it just takes an addict to bring it out in you."

“I’ll kill him,” Michael grumbled, pushing against Lincoln with all his might. “I’ll kill him!” he bellowed, his face reddened and tiny beads of sweat rolling down the side of his head. Michael’s hands dug into Lincoln’s flesh with his anger and Lincoln braced a heavy black boot against the wall where Kellerman stood in order to keep his brother off of the monster.

“Michael,” Lincoln grunted against his brother’s weight pushing into him. “Michael, listen to me,” Lincoln’s plea was weak and quiet but Michael responded, lessening the force he was pushing against Lincoln with. “Look at me,” Lincoln demanded, slapping the side of Michael’s face gently until their blue pools mirrored each other. “We can’t do this without him,” Lincoln whispered, pushing his brother one last time towards Sara. A smug laugh resonated from Kellerman and Lincoln’s turned on him before Michael could react. “I’d shut up if I were you. Shut up, before I get mad,” he threatened.

Michael glanced at Sara briefly, looking away, ashamed of how he had acted. His body still shook, racked with the rush of manic fury that still plagued his being. He lifted a quivering hand to his face, pressing gently to under his nose where the bleeding still continued to draw ruby red lines down his face. Michael glanced back to Kellerman who shrunk under the gaze of Lincoln who was talking to him, saying something Michael could only imagine that accompanied stern pointing and chest prodding. Michael turned from the two men and stalked past Sara where he sunk against the red bricked wall and let his body slide until he hit the floor. Michael's head lolled backwards and he exhaled a breath of the surging frenzy when it hit the wall.

Sara saw that he was still bleeding, and made herself move into gear. She grabbed for her purse and walked slowly over to Michael, kneeling down beside him. "Come here," she murmured to him, digging through her purse. Finally she came across a few tissues, and an antiseptic wipe. She kept her voice calm and distant. "This'll sting a little." Quickly and with ease, she wiped the antiseptic across his face, removing all traces of blood. As soon as she was done, she pressed a tissue to his nose, holding it firmly in place. Her voice softened, "Now what good are you to me all beat up?"

Michael swallowed a lump in his throat and the metallic taste of blood was pushed down with it. He lifted his hand and trailed it down her arm until it met her hand pressed to his face. He relieved her of holding the tissue, setting his own application of pressure to his internal wound. "Thank you," Michael breathed, his voice raspy from shouting and his throat sore.

Sara smiled at him a little, taking another antiseptic cloth out of her purse and rubbing his free hand until the blood came off. "Yeah, well. We're lucky I come prepared, huh?" She studied him closely, amazed at how he could go from so fierce to so vulnerable-looking in a matter of moments. She ran her fingers across his forehead, wiping off beads of sweat. "Oh, Michael, what do you think you're doing? I'm not worth that."

Michael took the tissue from his nose and was relieved to feel nothing. No trickle of warm fluid and nothing on the tissue. His nosebleed had stopped. Michael softened at Sara’s touch, gently plucking her delicate hand from his forehead and pressing his lips to her knuckles. “You’re worth everything to me,” he said to her, his voice somewhere between sultry and serene. Michael held Sara’s hand in his and reached up with his other hand to brush his thumb lightly across her subtly accented cheekbones. “You always will be.”

"You never quit, do you?" Sara arched an eyebrow, an amused smirk playing across her face. Sara linked her fingers with his, squeezing his hand tightly. "You're sitting in front of me broken and battered, and it doesn't slow you down. Always the charmer, hmm?" She lowered her voice. "I'm sorry, Michael."

Michael smiled but he also wore a frown. He titled his head sideways while their fingers idly looped with each other. "For what?" he asked innocently.

"For all of this," Sara motioned around her. "You know what for, Michael. This isn't you. . . you're not violent. You don't get this angry."

Michael's gaze slipped from hers. He knew she was right but he had never felt so furious in all his life. Sara did something to him, something he couldn't explain or tell her with words. "Yeah well, I’m the bad guy, remember?" he smirked at his words, wondering if Sara remembered them. "And besides, you really don't know me that well yet," he beamed at her, letting their entwined hands fall limp on his lap and send a hot flush through his body.

"You've never been the bad guy, Michael. I think we both know that," Sara smiled at him. She shifted her weight, suddenly uncomfortable in her crouching position. "Are we going to stay in this alley all day?"

"It would be nice, but no," Michael grumbled gruffly, pushing against the wall and lifting himself to his feet. He fiddled with his sweater, yanking it down his back and his arms, covering the purple ink that peeked out of the cuffs. Michael took Sara's hand and they began walking towards the two men that had fell into an awkward silence behind them. "We're moving," Michael told them without looking at them. He didn't mean to ignore Lincoln, he just couldn't look at his brother without seeing the man he loathed so much standing so close to him, free and unbeaten. "We have to leave now if we want to make it to the President in time," he told them, the whistle from the platform signifying the arrival of their train.

They all boarded the train quickly and without many people noticing. As far as they were concerned, they were just four friends travelling, but oh how far from he truth that was. Michael and Sara paused outside a sliding door and Michael looked back to Lincoln. “Your section is the next one,” Michael told him, handing him two tickets he produced from his back pocket.

“Will you two be ok?” Lincoln asked as Sara slid open he door and slid into the compartment.

“If we need you, we’ll call,” Michael assured his brother with a tender smile. Michael disappeared through the dark brown wood effect doors of the train, his and Sara’s silhouettes only just visible through the frosted glass.

Lincoln pushed Kellerman into the next compartment roughly. "You. Sit down," Lincoln told Kellerman across the carriage as the train pulled away from the station.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sara shifted in her seat next to Michael, trying to get comfortable. She was still a little uneasy about how Michael had acted earlier. She knew how far he'd go for someone he cared about, someone he loved, and she wasn't sure she could handle the responsibility of him feeling that way about her. Even though Lincoln had taken Kellerman to another compartment, she still felt like he was too close. Leaning forward, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach, she put her head between her knees, taking a deep breath.

Michael immediately leant forward next to Sara and instinctively wrapped an arm around her frail frame. “Are you ok?” he asked with concern, his head bobbing sideways to try and catch her gaze. When she didn’t answer, Michael slid off his seat and landed on his knees with a bump that was quickly forgotten when he shuffled himself in front of Sara. “Sara,” he gently pressed, lifting her head to his so he could see her face. “Have I done something to upset you?” he asked quietly.

"God, Michael," Sara pulled away and leaned back up in the seat, closing her eyes. "Not everything is about you. Did you ever stop to think about that?" She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Why did you do it? What you did back there."

"I don't know," Michael confessed, sitting back on his heels and making the gap between them grow to a level he sensed Sara was happier with. "You were there and told me what happened, and then he was there and…I just..." he began, staring as a light patch on the old, flat carpeted floor.

Michael slid forward on his knees, urged by Sara's tiny hands willing him closer. He relinquished her hands and smoothed his own over her knees as he spoke. "Sara i told you once before. This, you and me? It's real," he paused, looking down a his hands that teased light circles over Sara's thighs. "I want to take care of you," Michael added but registering the look in her eyes he added, "but, not like that. Not if it means scaring you." Sara didn’t have to admit that Michael had scared her, he could sense it.

"I don't want to run anymore," Sara said quietly, shaking her head. "It's just been a long time since I've trusted myself, Michael. I've never made good decisions when it comes to men. Not once. But I've also never," she paused, leaning closer and meeting his eyes. "I've never come close to feeling like this. About anyone."

"Me either," Michael said with a wavering voice as he jumped back into the seat beside Sara. "To all of the above," he smiled, turning his body so that they were facing each other.

"You've never made good decisions when it comes to men?" Sara quipped with an arch of her eyebrow. "I guess that explains the crew you ran around with back at Fox River." She paused, turning away from him as she spoke. "The first thing they tell you when you take the job. . . is never fall in love with an inmate."

Michael’s laughter soon faded and Sara’s words rang through his head as clear as day. He swallowed hard, his hand taking hers in his and his other moving to brush her hair from her face. “Love?” Michael repeated her words, softly and almost a whisper between them. He looked up from their hands, almost embarrassed to see Sara so open and willing. Michael’s delicately nimble fingers tucked the strands of deep, auburn tinted brown locks behind Sara’s ear and paused, his breath quickened and his hand cupped her cheek in his palm.

"Love." Sara repeated. She tried to read his expression, but found that per usual, he was unreadable. She wondered if she'd ever really be able to break beneath the exterior and get to what was underneath. She bit her lip, "If that's okay."

Michael’s answer was wordless, silent and yet, as clear as an elephant in a room. His eyes locked with hers, never letting their gazes drop for a second while he smoothed his thumb pad over the soft, milky skin on Sara’s cheeks. Michael hooked his finger under Sara’s chin, titled her head slightly and leant forward with his own titled head until their lips met. The kiss was like the infirmary, only less hurried and Michael savoured the taste of Sara in his mouth. Their tongues danced and their heads moved in a slow, seductive rhythm, lips brushing and swollen from friction. Michael raised his body slightly, shuffling even closer to Sara on the softly padded seat and slid a hand to her hip and pressed the other to the small of her back. When Michael pulled backwards, never breaking the kiss, Sara toppled on top of his body in a crumpled heap of exploring arms and mouths.

Sara let out a soft moan against Michael's mouth, not breaking the kiss as she pressed her body into his. It wasn't altogether different from their infirmary kiss, but it was easier to get swept away to forget where they were. There were new obstacles now, and she wasn't about to forget that. Slowly, she made herself pull away from the kiss, leaving her forehead resting against his.

“God, Sara…” Michael panted, his eyes pressed closed and his hand cradling the back of Sara’s head, holding her to his. He stole another quick kiss, brushing hers lightly with his, never wanting to forget the taste of her sweet, alluring mouth. “This is too much,” he admitted with a locked jaw, his words biting through clenched teeth and his body shifting uncomfortably under Sara’s smaller frame. “We shouldn’t…” he rationalised, swallowing an obstruction that had suddenly formed in his throat.

Sara shifted off him, sitting back up in her seat and tucking her hair behind her ears. She cleared her throat and swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "Yeah. You're probably right. We shouldn't." She paused, and glanced over at him. "There are a lot of reasons why we shouldn't."

Michael’s body ached with the absence of Sara. She was right, they shouldn’t. It was too risky with everything they faced right now and they had only just found each other again. Michael didn’t want to lose that, and yet, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of Sara. The way the sun shone brilliantly through the window, illuminating her features and highlighting the undertones of red in her hair was pure temptation. Michael’s eyes flickered over her body, over her neatly rounded breasts he still felt pressed to his chest and to the way her refined fingers sat patiently on her lap. A breath caught in his throat and his body shuddered.

Sara did her best to keep her eyes off Michael. She looked at the seat in front of her. She looked at the ground. She looked at her shoes, then Michael's shoes, then her shoes again. She pretended she needed something out of her purse. Finally, she looked over at him. "Why you looking at me like that?"

“Like what?” Michael asked, unable to pull his bluey orbs from her, even when she caught him staring at her.

"Like . . ." Sara trailed off, getting lost in his eyes for a moment. If anyone had ever looked at her like that before, she certainly didn't remember it. She motioned to him and shrugged. "Like that."

"I can't help it," Michael let his lips curl into a coy smile. Sara was beautiful and her fiery, red headed temper made him want her all the more. She was something special, one in a million. Cocky, brave and so, so delicious. Michael shifted in his seat again, letting his khaki pants bunch at his crotch and hide his sudden, embarrassing reaction to the mere thought of Sara.

Sara glanced around the small train compartment they sat in before leaning over and brushing her fingers across his cheek. He needed to shave. He also kind of needed to shower. Leaning in, she brushed her lips across his. "Think anyone's gonna come in here?"

Michael’s head whipped towards the door. No lock, however, the glass was frosted and you couldn’t see in and the doors were big, heavy and required some force to pry apart in a hurry. Michael looked at his watch and noted they had three hours until arrival at their destination. His breath caught and he suddenly blushed, his breathing turning rapid and irregular as Sara continued to caress his face. “This isn’t how I wanted it to be,” Michael said sadly, turning back to face her and taking her hand in his.

Sara laughed quietly, shaking her head. "How did you want it to be, Michael? A dingy motel with a dirty comforter and chipped paint? Let's be realistic. We can't get a suite at the Hilton."

“And you can’t wait until then anyway, right?” Michael smiled, quirking his eyebrow at her and licking his lips in anticipation. “I don’t have anything,” he admitted shyly. “Condoms were not on my list of essentials items to have whilst on the run,” He joked, using his grip on her arm to gently encourage her nearer to him.

Sara scooted closer to Michael, feeling a slight blush move up her cheeks. She watched him for several seconds, then nodded. "What? You mean the first step of the plan wasn't to grab a couple hookers?" She took his hand in hers, running her fingers gently over his. "No late-night rendezvous with the wife?"

A pang of guilt invaded Michael at the mention of Nika. He'd used her, essentially for his own gain and his conscious would never recover. Michael had never intended for so many people to get hurt, physically or emotionally. Michael looked away from Sara, lowering his head in shame and resting it in his hands between his legs. Michael focus on a patch of floor but all he heard was Nika's pleas for his love and the betrayal laced through her words.

"Hey," Sara said softly, rubbing her hand over his back. She placed her other hand on his knee, squeezing softly. "Look at me. What aren't you telling me, Michael?"

Michael sucked in a breath and sat back up. He let his head fall backwards against the compartment wall and his eyes focus on the corner of the ceiling. "Nike, my wife," he clarified briefly on a shaky voice. "I only married her so she could get her green card, but in exchange she was to bring me something when I was in Fox River. A card, to gain access to a part of the prison I needed to go to," Michael swallowed, not dwelling on too many details. Sara already knew enough. "The day I called you and told you how I felt, Nika was there and she overheard everything. Sara, the girl had it in her mind that we really were married and I really loved her," He sighed, rubbing his temple with a firm hand. "I used her and now she is just another statistic on the Scofield list of innocent bystanders that got in the way."

"You didn't. . . she knew why you were married, Michael. Why you married her. The day I went to get coffee with her," Sara hesitated, then added. "The day she stole my keys. She told me about why you married her. How you saved her. It was obvious that she cared about you, but you can't blame yourself for everything, Michael." She paused, and then shrugged, a small smile playing on her face. "I guess it's just hard not to love you?"

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me Sara, I really, really do,” Michael said sincerely, taking her hand in his and lifting it to his lips. Michael kissed her hand, slow and softly, letting his lips linger on her skin while he inhaled her scent. He turned her hand over and planted tender kisses to the sensitive skin of Sara’s palm. He had his eyes pressed closed and he let out a breath with a slight growl. “I really do,” his eyes flickered open and met Sara’s once more only this time they were darkened by passion, grey and stifling as they ate away at Sara’s figure.

Sara pulled her hand away, slowing leaning away from him. She studied him closely, and then sighed softly, looking at him seriously. "Michael, do you really want me because you want me? Or do you feel like you owe me something?"

"Sara, I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you're picture in that newspaper clipping," Michael admitted. "And now I realise how creepy that makes me sound," he laughed low before running his hand over his lightly stubbled jaw. "You were always a part of the plan Sara, I’ll never be able to forgive myself for that, but the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray," Michael quoted poetically then lifted his gaze from his hands and bore into her eyes. "And I never factored on falling in love with you." Michael swallowed nervously.

Sara wasn't sure what to say. There were so many questions, so many things she needed answered. But she didn't feel like going into it, she didn't feel like bringing him down any lower. Deep down, maybe it was for the best she had always been part of his plan. She had needed him, long before she even knew she did. Sick of words, she leaned in, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him softly.

Sara’s reaction took Michael by surprise but it was not rejected. In an instant, Michael’s hands found Sara’s body, roaming up her ribcage and around her shoulders to press into her back and pull her closer. He parted his lips and Sara’s tongue invaded his mouth, running its ribbed texture over his and making him emit a soft moan against Sara’s mouth. Michael pulled at the thin green fabric of Sara’s hoodie, sliding it down her arms and leaving it in a heap behind her body. “Sara, I want you so badly,” He whispered against her neck, replacing his words with a lingering kiss to her rapid pulse.

Sara nodded, slipping her hands underneath the fabric of his dark sweater. She brushed the tips of her fingers across his skin, trying to mentally recount what the tattoo looked like. She had seen it several times, done her best to secretly commit it to memory. Dropping her hands down to the hem of his sweater, she whispered, "I want you too."

Michael's fingers busily unbuttoned Sara's grey woolly sweater and quickly lost it with her other clothes. Her bare shoulders sprung into view and Michael's tongue darted out to taste her skin, fresh and newly cleaned. His fingers brushed gently over her cuts, apologising a thousand time over in his head, each time the words never making it to his mouth. Michael's hands continued down Sara's body and he looped his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans and tugged at them playfully. He sat back against the bench like seat and encouraged Sara to sit astride his lap while he lifted his sweater over his head, losing contact with her skin for a second.

Sara crawled into Michael's lap, a little awkwardly, and smiled as he took his sweater off. She traced the outlines of his tattoos, leaning down and placing a kiss on his shoulder. "They've said stuff about them. On the news."

Michael's head lolled backwards and he tingled when Sara kissed him. "What stuff?" Michael rasped, swallowing when his mouth went dry. He lifted a heavy hand and ran it down Sara's smooth skin, finally resting it on her hips.

Sara kissed up his neck, darting her tongue out over his Adam’s apple. "That they were part of the plan too."

Michael chuckled when Sara's hair tickled at his skin. "They are the plan," he confirmed, rolling his head so that Sara would kiss even more skin.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Sara kissed his newly exposed skin, running her hands down his chest. "What else don't I know about you?"

Michael’s back arched off the seat and his breath caught in his throat. “I’m ticklish,” he admitted with a laugh. If someone had told him a month ago he would be doing this with Sara, he would have laughed just as hard. It was like everything he had ever dreamed about, only more real, malleable and reactive to his touch. Michael had never felt so relaxed, ironic really, considering the situation they faced and the pressure in his pants. “But the rest you’ll have to find out,” he smirked, grabbed her back as he sat them forward and buried his face in her cleavage.

Sara let out a quiet laugh, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She threw her head back, and was still for several seconds before moving her hands down to his pants. "How about we get you out of these?"

Michael smirked against her skin as he kissed up her neck, gently tangling his hands in her hair and pulling her head backwards to expose her neck. He ran his tongue along her jaw line and smiled when she moaned, her eyes fluttering closed and her hands stilling on his pants button. Michael let her head fall back in front of his, their noses touching and their lips barely even apart. "Okay," he breathed erotically before capturing her mouth in another searing kiss.

Sara pushed his button through its hole, slowly keeping her eyes on Michael's the entire time. After the button was free, Sara gently tugged at the zipper until it was pulled all the way down. She shifted against him, rising up a little and motioning for him to pull his pants down.

Michael helped Sara pull his pants down over his behind, shifting in the seat until they slid under Sara and rested at his knees. Michael’s boxers were taught against his skin and his aching erection fought against the thin, cotton fabric. They were buttoned with two tiny blue buttons at the front and a trail of dark, black hair crept up Michael’s abdomen. Michael’s fingertips gripped into Sara’s hips and he grinned up at her. “This is going to be over so quickly,” he hissed.

"That's okay," Sara whispered, dropping her head to kiss his neck once again. She trailed a hand down his stomach and over his boxers, cupping him through the thin fabric. "We'll have more time. . . later."

Sara’s hands left a trail of fire down Michael’s stomach so hot that he thought he could feel her fingertips in his gut. His hands slid over Sara’s flat belly and teased the flesh under her waistband before popping the button and dragging the fly down slowly. Michael’s gasped and flushed hot, tiny beads of sweat forming all over his body as he helped Sara out of her jeans. His hands traced up her powerful thighs with a quivering touch and Michael felt hot, wet pre ejaculate seep from his length and stain his boxers when Sara glided her hand over his length.

"I think . . . " Sara whispered, kissing him once again, softly. She pressed her lips to his chest, then his shoulder, then the stubble on his jawline. "I think that we really should get rid of these boxers."

"Sara...wait..." Michael stammered, lifting her face to his so she would stop her assault on his naked torso. How was he supposed to think rationally with her lips all over him? His eyes flickered open and his jaw clenched as his impending release faded away and his vision cleared. "Are you sure this is what you want? Right now? Here?" Michael's voice was soft but husky and his hands trailed down her smooth skin and over her self inflicted stitches that would soon be jagged scars.

Sara flinched slightly as he touched her still-raw stitches, and she nodded, looking up into his eyes. "Michael, it doesn't matter where we do it. If it's on a train, or in some motel room, or. . . I don't even know where else. That's not what's important."

"What is important?" Michael asked her, brushing the soft dyed strands of Sara's wavy hair from her face. "I don't want to be a regret," he added solemnly, mentally kicking himself for being so caring when clearly, his body wanted this as much as Sara did.

"You're important. We're important," Sara leaned in, kissing him gently. "I have a lot of regrets, Michael. A lot. But you're not one of them, and you're never going to be."

"I just want us...this...I want it all to be perfect," he replied between kisses.

"Not everything has to be perfect," Sara whispered, shaking her head. She hooked a finger into the waistband of his boxers. "Not everything has to be perfect, or planned out, Michael. Some things just happen."

Michael wrapped his arms around Sara's body and hugged her to him, seizing her lips in another fiery kiss. He loosened his muscular grip on her and slid his hands down her back, under the waistband of her underwear and cupped her behind in his powerful hands. Sara was already wet, Michael could feel her warmth seeping through her panties and heating his arousal. That, and he could smell her sweet, addictive scent filling his nostrils. "If we are going to...god, Sara..." Michael whispered, swallowing hard when she continued to stroke him slowly. "...If we are going to do this, these need to go," he grinned wickedly and yanked her panties down.

Sara shifted against him, helping him remove her panties. She moved back against him, pausing for a moment. "Are you nervous?"

Michael blushed and felt a relief wash over him at her question. "Like you wouldn't believe," he laughed stiffly.

"You don't have to be scared of me," Sara whispered. She adjusted herself on his waist once again, moving down slowly so his tip was inside her. "It's just us."

Michael threw his head back and gritted his teeth. Sara was hot, throbbing around him and tight. His body shuddered and he lifted his hip, pushing into her further before seating himself once more and pulling her down onto his with a firm grip on each hips. Michael paused with a pained expression, allowing Sara to adjust to him inside of her, the most painful aspect of this whole ordeal in itself. It took everything Michael had not to lose himself both physically and metaphorically. When his eyes opened again he relaxed, sliding his hands over Sara's thighs. "You okay?" he asked, concerned.

"God," Sara whispered, not feeling capable of opening her eyes. There was a roaring in her ears, and she took a deep breath, finally fluttering her eyes open. He looked so serious that it caused a smile to spread across her face. Pressing her lips to his, she whispered. "Oh, Michael. I'm great."

Michael smiled against her lips before parting them and allowing Sara's tongue to find his in his mouth. Their kissing was slow, loving and matched the rhythm Michael started when he lifted Sara and impaled her again. The breath left Michael's lungs hurriedly and he shook to hold back. "Sara..." he moaned against her face, their lips barely parted. Michael gripped Sara's back, pressing her to his chest when he sat forward for a better angle of penetration and Sara squealed when her clitoris bumped into Michael's pubic bone. Michael's lips trailed a path of kisses along Sara's jaw line, down her neck and he ran his tongue over her clavicle before tasting the slightly salty, sweaty skin of her breasts.

"Oh, Michael," Sara murmured again, letting out a long moan. She felt a certain tingling start in the pit of her stomach, a certain tingling she hadn't felt in quite some time and she let out another moan. "Oh yeah. . ."

Michael grunted low and guttural in his throat. His name of Sara's lips was enough to send his body into overdrive and he sped up his pace, sending Sara's shrieks higher and higher. Michael's hands came up to hold Sara's head and he crushed his lips to her to muffle her screams. His muscular back rippled with each movement and his abdomen tightened with each thrust. A burning in the pit of his stomach started to take over his body and Michael quickly dropped a hand in between them and rolled Sara's sensitive numb under his thumb. "Come for me Sara," he breathed, pressing harder.

The combination of his touch and his words were enough to send Sara over the edge. Letting out a cry, she pulled his mouth back to hers to muffle herself. Her orgasm washed over her, long and hard, and for a second she thought the train was spinning around.

Sara's scorching hot core began to spasm around him and Michael eyelids flashed with white when he finally let himself go. His orgasm hit him like lightning, sending a rush of hotness through his body and eventually into Sara. His lips met hers with a breaking force and Michael gently smoothed his hands over her body as he buried himself deep within her and let her ride out her orgasm against him weakly. Their lips parted and Michael laid his sweaty forehead against Sara's. "This is a dream," he panted. "If I open my eyes, you'll be gone," he breathed, holding her to him when he fell back against the seat.

Sara leant quietly into his neck, as she tried to calm her breathing. She kept her arms around him, finally able to control herself. Leaning up, she whispered. "I'm right here."

Michael peeled his eyes open and held Sara to his heaving chest. He rolled his head sideways and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Thank you," Michael whispered sweetly.

"For?" Sara teased, prying herself gently away from him. She glanced around for where her panties had been tossed. "We should probably get dressed."

"For being here," Michael said gently as she slid from his body. Michael pulled his boxers and pants back up, buttoning them quickly and looking for his shirt. "And I don't just mean now, Sara."

Sara quickly redressed herself, and tucked her hair behind her ears. She watched Michael pull his clothing back on, completely mesmerized by every move he made. When he completely dressed, Sara stepped into him, wrapping him in a hug. "I know, Michael."

Michael pressed his lips to Sara's hair, inhaling her scent. The door behind him creaked and slid open to reveal Lincoln. "Are you guys ok?" he asked concerned, his eyes darting between the both of them. "I thought I heard shouting," he clarified, leaning into the compartment after shooting a glance down the carriage.

Michael hid a smirk and looked down at Sara. "We're okay, right?" he asked her.

Sara shifted in Michael's embrace, turning so that she could look at Lincoln. "Oh, yeah. I'd say we're more than okay."

Lincoln looked at the pair before him confused for a second before stepping back from the door. "Well good," he said, slightly disturbed by their sudden smiling faces. "I'm just gonna go, baby sit agent asshole," he pointed a thumb towards the next compartment, slid the door closed once more and disappeared from view. Michael looked at Sara and laughed a hearty and genuine laugh he hadn't done in so long.

"Look at that," Sara smirked as he laughed. She moved out of his grasp, sitting back down and getting comfortable in her seat. "Are you laughing? That's a sound I could get used to."

"I laugh," Michael objected, sitting down beside her and wrapping a long arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him. "I laughed in the infirmary, when you invited me to your place," he smirked. "What was it? Oh yeah..."You should see my place..." I think it was. I had to laugh because the first thing they tell you when you go to prison is not to fall in love with the doctor," he quipped with a grin.

Sara rolled her eyes and shoved him slightly. "Oh, you think you're so funny." She arched an eyebrow, and glanced over at him, not sure if she was reaching into dangerous territory. "You didn't fall in love that fast."

Michael shielded himself from her playfully, dramatically toppling sideways when she pushed him. "How do you know?" he asked her quickly. "Was you timing?" He teased.

"I just know." Sara smiled, nodding at him. "Back then. . . it was all an act?"

Michael shook his head slowly. "I underestimated you in my planning. You stole my heart the moment I saw you," Michael said sweetly. "I've dreamed about being with you for so long," he inhaled deeply, the smell of their union still hanging thick in the air and reminding him of it. He smiled coyly. "You didn't disappoint."

"I didn't disappoint, hmm?" Sara said, leaning over and putting her head on his shoulder. "Well. There's always hope for you the second time around."


End file.
